Strangely, no dreams come. Before I went to bed, nestled my little den behind the cover of the brush, the only thing on my mind was the feast, particularly those I'd be seeing there. I saw Cato's enraged fury, the same look he had when I betrayed him. I saw Clove's dark unnerving eyes, peering at me like I'm something to dissect. I saw Thresh's tightened jaw and hard granite features, as stoic as a statue. I also saw Katniss, her silver eyes and hesitant smiles, like she knew all happiness is temporary, something the Capitol just hasn't fucked up for you yet. In a way, I suppose she was right, but I still enjoyed them. I enjoyed every time she smiled at me.

Those were the last thoughts I could recollect. As my eyes snap open, I find myself in the den I fell asleep in, my spear still by my side and my pack functioning as a pillow. Without looking out, I know it's early. There's not a single ray of sunshine sifting in through the small gaps in the brush. I sit up wearily, feeling my hunger more than ever.

I silently gather my stuff. I need that pack. What could it have in it other than food? There's nothing else I need so desperately. I'm hanging in there, but at this rate I won't have any strength left for the finale…unless that special advantage changes everything. Maybe it's some Capitol concoction that'll eliminate the hunger of whoever consumes it. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Whatever it is, it's probably something really violent and really entertaining. The Capitol audience would expect nothing less.

I slither out of my den like a snake. As I suspected, it's completely dark outside. Judging by the position of the moon, I'd say it's about two hours 'til dawn. The moonlight is limited, giving only outlines of the forest. I can see the tree outlines but not their bark. I can see the thin silhouettes of branches but not the veins of the leaves on them. Everything is darker, more mysterious. And it makes me uneasy. As if this place wasn't creepy enough.

I move silently, remembering my training. I shift my weight with each step and avoid stomping or rustling dead leaves. My eyes swivel in each direction, searching for mutts or tributes or whatever else the gamemakers might send my way. I take a longer route to the Cornucopia. I could just follow the river, but I really don't want to be near that place in the dark. I actually don't want to be near that place period, where every drink of water risks a run-in with one of those mutts.

I keep my spear pointed out as I near the clearing, gingerly pushing the brush aside. Across an ocean of short grass sits the Cornucopia, glowing eerily in the moonlight. I've never seen it so vacant, so still. From the start of the Games, this was a dangerous place, going from the bloodbath to the career-base. It's so quiet now, but not a good quiet. Not the quiet that promises rest and peace. The quiet that promises a good night's sleep or time with someone you love. This quiet is ominous, foreboding, like the silence in a dark hallway at night just after you've asked if anyone's there.

I can feel myself shivering and I pull my jacket tighter. Dawn's at least an hour away, if not more, and there's a chill hanging in the air. I can't help but wonder if the others are already here, hanging back just like I am and waiting to make their move.

I don't quite know what my plan is yet. There's no sign of the backpacks so I assume the gamemakers will drop them off at dawn. But what do I do when that happens? If I rush in there immediately, I'll be an easy target, not exactly a great option with opponents like Clove and possibly Katniss who are good with distance weapons. On the other hand, if I hesitate I could easily lose my pack and all my desperately needed food. Not to mention the special advantage that's apparently going to shift everything.

I simply sit down behind a group of bushes, right at the edge of the clearing. If I know Cato and Clove (and I do), they'll work as a team to get their packs, especially now that they can both go home. The could go in as a pair and take whatever they want. Even Thresh would probably be hesitant to engage them both at the same time. Or maybe they'd rather take down the big threats than get supplies. If just one went in, it might draw Katniss or Thresh out. Then the other could come in and they'd have their opponent in a box.

There isn't a doubt in my mind that Katniss, Cato, Clove and Thresh will be here. None of them are cowards and they all must need something desperately. Peeta and the girl from Five are the wildcards. I haven't seen any sign of the girl since the bloodbath. Given her size, I suspect she's been hiding, avoiding confrontation at all costs. This doesn't seem like her thing but maybe desperation will force her here. I highly doubt Peeta's even capable of coming here. That slash wound looked nasty when it happened. I can't even imagine what it looks like now, especially since District Twelve can't afford the fancy medicine or treatments like District Two.

They've probably conducted the interviews by now. It's funny, but it never even crossed my mind. Technically, they're supposed to do it for the final eight tributes…but with Rue's death coming only a few minutes after Lewis', they probably just conducted seven. I think of my family. How did they handle it? What do they really think of how I've been doing? I hope I haven't disappointed them. I hope I haven't scared them. Most of all, I hope I haven't hurt them.

I wonder how Katniss' family handled it? The way she described Prim, she sounds kinda shy and her mother…well Katniss didn't sound like she had a lot of confidence in her capabilities. Unexpectedly, my mind drifts to the other tributes families. They must have them, even Cato and Clove. Somebody out there loves them and is praying for their safe return as they watch each excruciating second of the Games.

I shake my head to clear the confusion. I can't afford to be having those thoughts, not when I'm going to have to fight those tributes in a matter of minutes. Slowly but surely, the darkness begins to slip away. I almost wish it wouldn't. It's true at this moment that I'm hungry, tired and far from home…but at least I'm alive. An hour from now, that might not be true. Finally, the first rays of sunlight clear the tree-line, shining on the mountain far across the arena and spreading softly over the Cornucopia. The eeriness is gone. Now, it looks golden, like an enticing idol, one that's probably rigged with booby traps.

Suddenly, the ground in front of the Cornucopia parts and a table adorned with a fine white cloth and six backpacks rises. Three of the backpacks are large, two red ones sporting a two and a dark blue one marked with an eleven. There's two average sized ones beside them, a green one marked with a five and a bright yellow pack marked with a one.

Mine.

A tiny orange pack marked with a twelve sits beside. Odd. I thought there'd be two, one for Katniss and one for Peeta. Cato and Clove each got one.

My train of thought is derailed a moment later when the girl from District Five rushes out of the Cornucopia and seizes the green backpack. I'm still sitting there dumbfounded as she throws it over her shoulder and sprints out of the clearing.

Clever girl.

Now that was ballsy; hiding in the Cornucopia itself and getting the jump on everybody. We're all hanging back, trying to gauge the situation and she just went for it and got her pack without even getting a scratch. I'm jealous…and surprised. I knew she was smart but that was impressive.

Everything in me screams to go get my pack. It's probably food in there and I need it. If I don't get it someone else will. But what about the special advantage? Where's that?

I'm still running my eyes over the Cornucopia in search of the advantage when I spot Katniss sprinting from her hiding spot farther down the tree line. A second later, Clove jumps in, running after her. I look around for any sign of Cato. There's none and with Clove distracted this might be my chance.

I ready my spear and burst into the clearing, denying the urge to look towards Katniss. I can't get distracted, not now. The consequences are too severe.

I keep my eyes on the table, where the yellow backpack with the one still sits. I put on a burst of speed and close in, feeling the silent breeze blowing by me, just like when I first ran towards the Cornucopia roughly two weeks ago.

I'm about ten feet from my pack when a gargantuan nightmare emerges from behind the Cornucopia.

Thresh…and he looks bigger and angrier than ever before.

You'd think border-line starvation would slim the guy down, but no. He's huge. I can't tell if he's actually gotten bigger or if I've just wasted away that much. Right now, I'm a sapling and he's a mighty oak.

He pauses when he sees me, his face contorting itself into a look of rage. He immediately goes for the machete hanging from his belt and I raise my spear. In a second, he rushes me.

I jump out of the way like a matador, avoiding contact with the enraged giant. If he knocks me down, I'm dead. I gotta stay up. I gotta make him use something other than his size.

Thresh takes a wild swing with his machete that I easily dodge. I take a stab at him with my spear that misses, but not by much. He may be bigger but he's definitely slower.

We circle each other like a pair of wild animals. Thresh attacks with new energy, taking multiple swings with the machete. I roll under one that nearly catches my throat and smash my fist across Thresh's face. He staggers back as pain spreads across my knuckles. He turns back, blood trickling from his mouth and attacks again.

Okay, maybe Thresh isn't slow. His swings have a new speed I can barely keep up with. He takes a slash at my stomach that I barely avoid, the fabric of my jacket still getting shredded in the process. I catch the next on the hilt of my spear, but the force is still enough to send me staggering backwards.

I'm about to counterattack when something grabs my attention, a cry of pain in a very familiar voice. I look over to see Katniss trapped beneath Clove, who's holding a wickedly sharp knife to her face.

It's only a second, but it's the opening Thresh needs. His hulking frame crashes into me, driving me into the ground and knocking the wind from me. My head snaps back when I hit the ground, blurring my vision. I can just make out the hulking form of Thresh standing over me, machete raised.

Oh shit.

I react on instinct. My hands somehow find my spear and I bring the hilt up to block the swing. To my horror, Thresh's blow completely snaps the hilt, destroying my spear. He delivers a thunderous blow to the top of my face that leaves everything spinning. The shards of my spear are yanked from my hands and I'm left defenseless.

I can't believe it. This is it. I'm really gonna die. I've got no allies to save me this time, nobody to intervene and bail me out. I think of my family. I hope Striker doesn't have to see. The only positive is that Thresh doesn't seem like the type to torture anyone.

Snippets of conversation from Katniss and Clove drift over. Katniss. I let her distract me…and now it's all over. We're both gonna die. I guess neither of us could keep our promises.

My foggy mind can just distinguish Thresh raising the machete to deliver the killing blow. I want to shut my eyes but can't. My mind isn't right. Just as the machete begins to come down, I catch the utterance of a familiar name: Rue.

No killing blow comes. Did I imagine it? Thresh freezes in place, looking furious. But he's not looking at me. He's looking towards Katniss and Clove. Are they talking about Rue?

If they are, it doesn't matter. My mind clears and I don't hesitate. I yank my knife out of my boot and drive it into Thresh's stomach. He lets out an anguished cry and staggers backward, somehow staying on his feet even as the blood begins seeping out of his wound.

I don't look back at Thresh. I find myself sprinting towards Katniss, who's still trapped beneath Clove. I curl my fist and point all my momentum towards the District Two girl. She turns just in time to catch my fist across her face. Blood and a few teeth go spurting out on contact as Clove is knocked off Katniss like a rag doll. Before she can get up, I drive my knife into her chest wildly, drawing a hideous screech of pain from the usually composed girl and leaving her writhing on the ground. Katniss looks up at me, stunned, with a tiny stream of blood trickling from her mouth.

"For old time's sake," I say.

Katniss nods and jumps to her feet. I leave Clove lying on the ground and hurry towards the table. Katniss, who must've already grabbed her pack, takes off. The second my hands hit the white tablecloth, I throw the yellow backpack over my shoulder, feeling its beautiful weight. More weight means more food.

I turn back to see a surprising sight. Clove is crawling across the ground, either still fuzzy from my blow or going into shock from her knife wound, desperately trying to escape a bleeding Thresh, who's advancing towards her, one hand on his gut wound and his machete in the other.

"Clove!" I hear another familiar voice call.

Cato. I can just spot him emerging from the forest. What the hell was he doing? Chasing Katniss? Thresh hesitates and looks toward the District Two boy surging towards him, evidently weighing his options.

Then it happens, a trumpet booms across the arena and everybody pauses. I pause, standing dumbfounded by the table. Cato pauses, stopping halfway between the Cornucopia and the tree line. Thresh pauses, machete still in hand and bleeding constantly. Even Clove stops crawling, her confused gaze bouncing in all directions.

On the top of the Cornucopia, at the tail end of the golden horn, the metal parts and fog comes pouring out, followed by a neon green syringe.

The special advantage.

Thresh looks towards Clove, his fury still evident. Clove looks towards Cato, gaze agonized and pleading. Cato looks toward Clove, then toward me and then towards the syringe. I meet and follow his gaze. The decision is instantaneous. Cato and I both go surging towards the Cornucopia, the District Two boy ignoring his district partner's screams.

I'm closer and I scurry up the horn easily. Cato's got more ground to cover, but he's fast. Really fast. I'm just reaching the syringe when I hear his beastly hands slap against the golden metal. I turn to see him standing there, sword ready and face furious.

"Hello, traitor," he says coldly.

I don't respond, my eyes flickering towards the sword in his hand. My spear's gone. I draw my knife from my boot, a pitiful defense against Cato's weapon but I'm not going down without a fight. I can't let him get this advantage.

My preparations for battle are ultimately unnecessary as my feet are unexpectedly yanked out from under me. Thresh. I fall gracelessly off the side of the Cornucopia that Thresh climbed to get the drop on me. To my surprise, he doesn't try to kill me. He instead goes for the syringe, which I fell over with me and landed by the side of the horn.

Thresh has just picked it up in his bloody hands when Cato leaps off the Cornucopia, tackling the larger boy and knocking the advantage from his hands. A well-placed blow to Thresh's side keeps him down as Cato goes for the advantage. My head is still spinning from my rough landing, but as Cato grips the syringe in his powerful hands, one thing is blatantly clear: I'm in deep shit.

Without another thought, Cato plunges the syringe into his arm, injecting the green liquid that surges up his veins in an eerie glow. Oh Jesus, what's it gonna do to him? It is gonna give him superpowers?

I see Thresh look up from his spot on the ground, heaving and bleeding but looking frightened as well. I'm actually not sure I've ever seen Thresh frightened before. But he's got a good reason to be.

Cato sighs in contentment and there's silence for a moment.

But only for a moment.

The first sign that something's wrong comes when the smile drops from Cato's face. For once, he looks terrified…then pained. He begins screaming in a way that I haven't heard since the tracker jacker attack and begins clawing at the arm where he injected the serum. Then the noises begin; shifting, cracking, popping noises, the sounds of joints and bones and muscles all undergoing some hideous transformation.

Like something out of a nightmare, Cato transforms. He collapses onto his haunches as his body continues to grow, shoulders widening, limbs lengthening and muscles bulging, shredding his clothes into scraps. His spinal discs break from the confines of his skin in a bloody ooze, giving him this monstrous protrusion. The same thing happens at his elbows. His finger nails turn into claws as his hands grow, matching his hulking frame that is now the size of a bear. His face shifts too, features blunting themselves and his cruel sneer replaced with a roaring, foaming mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Throughout the whole transformation, Cato never stops screaming.

The last change I notice is his eyes. The cold icy blue is gone, replaced by a feral, glowing green.

A roar from Cato…or what used to be Cato snaps me out of my trance. I leap to my feet and begin running, only stopping to grab Thresh's machete which he'd forgotten on the ground. Thresh is still frozen when I pass him, but I don't bother looking back. I just run, my pack bouncing against my back with each step. I pass a groaning, bleeding Clove on the ground, slowly dying from another vicious stab wound, courtesy of Thresh.

I don't stop running. Another roar only makes me run faster. I sprint faster than I ever thought possible, dodging the tree branches that reach out to me like the clutching claws of whatever in god's name that serum turned Cato into.

I don't stop until my legs collapse beneath me. I roll over and instantly raise the machete, almost expecting the creature to leap out of the canopy to attack. Nothing surrounds me but silent forest. I'm hauling myself to my feet when I hear a cannon shot. Probably Clove. She didn't look so hot. Or perhaps it's Thresh. I shudder at the thought of what the Cato-mutt could do to him.

I could stop to examine my supplies, but I'd rather get back to my hiding spot. With the Cato-mutt out here and with my spear gone, I feel more exposed than ever.

I reach my small den within the hour and immediately hide myself in its familiar confines. I stuff my packs behind me and keep my eyes on the entrance and the machete in my hand. I notice that I can't stop shaking. Not even thoughts of my family can soothe me. Not while the Cato-mutt is out there.

They really weren't kidding about it being a game-changer.

A/N: Did that take any of you by surprise? I sure hope so